Climb every mountain, but not this one, this time

A reflection for St. Patrick’s Day, 2024

The Rev. Alecia Greenfield is rector of St. Anselm Anglican Parish in Vancouver BC. Her interests include Christian ministry and ecojustice advocacy. She is a gifted artist and lover of the outdoors especially as she promoted the spiritual practice of pilgrimage.

Last week I was in Ireland, and as a part of that trip, my daughter and I decided we would go to Croagh Patrick, “Patrick Mountain.” By tradition it is the place where Saint Patrick fasted for forty days and forty nights before driving the snakes (or pagans) out of Ireland.

My daughter, Hannah, grinned and announced that this would be her Lenten practice this year. It is a place of pilgrimage; but pilgrimage for the very fit—think Vancouver’s Grouse Grind but no hand rails and a little longer.

Hannah and I drove across Ireland to get there, arriving later in the day so we didn’t actually have the full four hours of daylight promised, but we figured we would get as far as we could, and see what happens.

So up we went. All was well until half way when the wind hit. The wind was actually frightening it was so strong. I couldn’t wear my glasses because they were repeatedly blown off my face. It pushed our feet around so that we could not trust our steps!  Seriously, my leg was buffeted and swept off course mid-stride. All the while the sun dropped inexorably towards sunset; the route became cooler and darker.

Now, something you should know: My daughter has been in training for firefighting for the last five months: She is very fit. It might take me four hours to get up to the top in that crazy wind-blown summit—but she could do it in two and half hours—so she wanted to go. If we went together, however, we might not go fast enough to get up and down safely. So, great mother that I am, I sent her on ahead. I got to the base of the final peak and then sensibly turned around and I didn’t go to the top.

My son, who is a mountain climber, tells me he is prepared to  “successfully fail” when conditions do not allow for a safe mountain-top ascent. I respect that language of successful failure. I notice that my son can fail. While disappointed, by choosing to turn back, he is able and willing to try another goal another day. And, that’s what I tried to keep in my heart when I turned away from that Irish mountain top.

Because I was brave enough to try, we went to a mountain and experienced epic Irish views, and that crazy wind, which was both frightening, and amazing. Because we were brave enough to try, we circled the statue of St Patrick at the base of the climb and prayed for hope and peace for the world. And because I was brave enough to acknowledge that I was too slow my daughter could go on and I could see that glow of delight in her eye as she explained that actually that wind was even stronger at the top and it frightened her so much that she held on to the ground so that she would not be blown away.

The logic and language above notwithstanding, I still feel like I was not enough. I was not strong enough, not brave enough. I hear the echo of the failure as much as any success. That’s how I feel.

The Greeks described in John 12: 21 say, “we would like to see Jesus.” And right now, this passage is helping me understand my mountain experience. Yup, I want to see Jesus, but I also want it to be easy. Easy enough that I can just do it, without any training or practice. I want to see Jesus but I want there to be enough light and sun for the way to be easy and bright. I want to see Jesus and I want to feel an easy confidence about finding footing.

But here is what I re-learn every time I trudge away from a summit or a goal that I did not reach. I can live through disappointment. I can make new goals and find new dreams. Yes, there is disappointment and heart-discomfort but I can handle it. Oh, and when I stop pushing so hard to be somewhere else, I have more time and energy to look for the wonder of Jesus where I am.